The River was dredged in multitudes,
A shadow of foreshadowing,
Against the mud and ichor, the servitude,
...The mass of bodies that came to floating,
Each face found lifeless, frozen genocide,
The peace in death, lost senses,
Against the tides the Moon hadn't faced,
The creeping stigmata, relentless.
Each one found their own disgrace,
The shocking scene of horror,
Left aversion in each innocent face,
Disturbed, the fishermen who found it
To be gentile in its own way,
The bloated faces rotting,
Beautiful in their decay.

She came, foreseen then,
I waited for her to show
The Plague of the World.

My lance, my Lord,
Shall purge the weak,
My sword will it then follow,
If not, then cord
Me to a cross, burned until the morrow.
My shield, your arm,
I seek what you would need,
My gentry, my farm,
Is yours, my Lord, for you, my Lord I bleed.

Undoubted, this level of worship,
Reaching above pulling currents
That justifies imposing torment
And yet drips blood of the calcified.
"It is inherent," I'm o'er told,
"To find and end your searching,
To seek but one thing to love."
What if I hate everything?
What if I'd be one with death,
What if I strive for your lament?
Perhaps I lust for some psychosis
Perchance to wake in your nightmares,
How is it, my dear, so far from belief,
That I would see this whole world burn?
Swallowed with plague,
Tyranny falls,
Dictatorships topple,
Monarchy crawls,
Your loved ones suffer,
Your friends all die,
Words become acid,
Tears are suicide,
Encrypted genomes
Now unlocked with instinctual bliss,
The inner beast assumes power,
The concious mind now sleeps,
Crime is objective,
A pure outlook of opinion,
Flayed heads on pikes,
The sentries of deception,
I want apocalypse in all forms
Spared of all deities' protection
I want the human mistake erased,
I want requiem and revelation.

The verdict read guilty
The indictment so empty
I care for your suffering
Your empty regret,
The humanity is passion,
Feelings of disease,
You don't feel anything for me and rightly so,
Misguided, you say you see love,
Yet I am all that that is despise,
I am hatred and misery,
I am the empty casket
Summoned up from the abyss,
Your heart is a liar,
You've yet to scratch the surface.

Look upon this withered heart torn from its gaping womb,
From a cage most unintact that splattered this solemn room,
It lies awaiting to beat again yet life just passes by its hollow eyes,
What was once lost could not be found, left with the burden of despise,
A reinvention of mediocrity has met its final wandering doorstep
Yet tragically, the aftermath of such adventure falters forthwith,
reincarnate this heart, this necessary human gear, like clockwork,
And let it suffer and die again in this arbitrary life where death lurks,
In the moment's passing wind, may it hear the name that was its own,
And in its last breath, may it whisper the name that made this so.

I’ve never struggled with words before,
The bending of language I do adore,
Yet each time I try to write to describe
Your effect on me my mind just dies,
My brain befuddled, hollow and weak,
Taken aback not unlike that of disease,
I get so nervous, seeming somber and wrecked,
But inside I am all that is vexed,
I want so dearly to be near to you,
I consider the distance but only a step or two,
I wait for your words to find my phone,
I sit still and stare at it when I’m alone,
I anticipate the fletched light to be shone,
I hope someday to call your heart home.